The Flight of The Stargazer

The birds they fly the Summer skies,
And I want to be free.
The horses run the grassy meadows,
But I want to be free.
The beavers build their peaceful dams,
Still I want to be free.
The lizards laze in the desert sun,
Oh, when will I be free?

I climbed the Northern crags,
But still I wasn't free.
I raced the Eastern slopes,
But still I wasn't free.
I swam the Southern seas,
But still I wasn't free.
I rode the Western desert,
But still I wasn't free.

"Magic is the answer,"
Said an old wise man.
And he drew a circle on the ground,
And said a magic word.

And I opened my eyes
For the very first time.

Magic was everywhere,
In water, earth, and sky,
And instead of being free
I had a sudden urge to fly.
The birds took me up
And I drank the stars,
And ate the sun,
And rested in the moon.

"I won't be free until I die,"
I was thinking, when I landed,
"Until I fly where nought has flown
And a chance of life I am handed."

(written by our very own
J12, Resident Poet -
this morning's soulful ponderings.)